


How to Romanticise with Scissors

by hypocrite_lecteur



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Rarepair, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypocrite_lecteur/pseuds/hypocrite_lecteur
Summary: The perpetually misunderstood and terminally delusional Fukawa Touko receives an unexpected request from Togami Byakuya to meet her after school, which she takes as an auspicious sign of imminent romance. She is not entirely wrong.
Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Genocider Syo | Genocider Jack/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Touko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	How to Romanticise with Scissors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YoungMrKusuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungMrKusuma/gifts).



> This is pure romantic fluff about an underdog ship. Hope it pleases the handful of devoted Naekawa fans out there, and particularly [YoungMrKusama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungMrKusuma/pseuds/YoungMrKusuma), to whom I have gifted this for inspiring me to write my own take on the relationship.
> 
> Also, by a happy coincidence, it's Touko's birthday (3/3) as I post this!

The scent of rumour was in the air at Hope’s Peak Academy; it hit Naegi Makoto from the second he entered his homeroom. The usual exhaustion of Friday morning was absent, replaced with an energetic, pervasive tension. Asahina Aoi, Naegi's most reliably guileless classmate, looked at him almost guiltily as he took his seat, before returning to whispered conversation with her friend Oogami Sakura, whose strong features were warped in displeasure. Meanwhile, Kirigiri Kyouko, his frontal neighbour, turned to shoot him an arch smile, which he returned with no small degree of confusion. What had he missed? The atmosphere was anxious, as though the class had borne witness to a public falling out, or even a bad breakup. Even the unflappable Togami Byakuya had a crease in his brow.

‘Kirigiri-san,’ he said quietly, ‘did something happen?’

Kirigiri, who despite the summer heat was still dressed in a smart blazer and tie (not to mention those mysterious black gloves), chuckled and turned to face Naegi. ‘You could say that. I assume you haven’t heard about this?’ Glancing at the door to ensure she wasn’t in any teacher’s line of sight, Kirigiri took her phone out and surreptitiously displayed it below desk level. ‘Any theories on who’s behind it?’ Her voice was touched with sarcasm.

Naegi glanced at the screen ‘This is...’

‘I believe most of the class have settled on a culprit.’ Kirigiri withdrew the phone after Naegi had observed for a few moments.

‘I guess you mean...’ Naegi inclined his head towards a row some distance in front of Kirigiri, where sat Fukawa Touko, apparently oblivious to the uncomfortable mood, and Kirigiri nodded. ‘I can see why,’ he continued slowly, ‘but I don’t think we should jump to conclusions.’

‘There are reasons to believe it’s her,’ said Kirigiri, ‘besides the obvious ones. But I admire your willingness to see the best in people even under questionable circumstances.’

Checking that Fukawa wasn’t listening, Naegi lowered his voice. ‘Fukawa-san wouldn’t do this. No matter how she might seem on the surface. I just don’t believe it.’ Kirigiri looked back at him curiously, and shrugged.

In any case, it wasn’t clear that Fukawa Touko was even aware that she was implicated in intrigue. Although typically prickly and reserved, she sat in a relaxed, open posture, smiling and giggling to herself. Whatever had afflicted the class, Fukawa was free of its cares. In fact, her demeanour suggested the opposite: that she had been the recipient of good news rather than a disturbing rumour.

And though she would be unlikely to confess it to her classmates, this was not far from the truth. That very morning, Fukawa had received unexpected contact from the longstanding object of her fantasies: the wealthy and handsome Togami Byakuya.

Naturally, she took it seriously. For a creature so lowly as Fukawa Touko, there could be no question that the receipt of a message from Togami Byakuya, by far the most eminent personage (in her estimation) at the prestigious high school, was a phenomenon requiring considerable attention and study. At the age of seventeen, Touko had little to recommend her but her literary talent: she knew all too well how hateful she was, how her poor hygiene, social awkwardness, and unpleasant personality were inescapably obvious to everyone around her, and how much she had invested in her one prodigious skill. Sometimes, Touko’s novels and the delusions that fueled them were an astonishment even to her; in the early days of her success, she had consented to meet with her fans and autograph their copies, and it had become routine for her to observe the eager expressions of her readers morph into polite resignation when they saw her in person: the tight, knotty braids of purplish brown hair, the bony, shapeless body, not to mention her face, the grimacing gremlin that Touko could barely stand to look at in the morning—the very same face whose dull, bloodshot eyes had checked and double-checked those words so many readers had come to treasure. Any handsome boys who actually took the time to read her works fondly imagined her as some delicate little romantic with flowing tresses and an angelic smile, and were disappointed with the ghastly bespectacled stick insect that met them: consequently Touko’s success she attributed to her misery, her ability to imagine the beauty of a world to which she didn’t belong. Such a power was of course beyond the scope of the sickeningly comfortable majority of humanity.

Conversely, it was her very hatefulness that ensured that only a boy like Togami could possibly understand her. Indeed, since the moment of their first acquaintance, his every insult, his every disparaging comment on her shabby appearance, her pungent scent, and her low personal character, had been interpreted through a special system that Touko had herself devised. As it was the habit of most people to treat her indifferently and hide their obvious distaste, Togami’s willingness to tell her the truth—that she was indeed a worm unfit to decorate his sole—belied a genuine concern for her, perhaps even a deep affection, which could only be confirmed by the short message she had received from him today:

_Fukawa-san,_

_I would be grateful if you would be so kind as to meet me after school behind the dorms to discuss a private matter. No one is to be told of this message._

Touko read and reread the message obsessively throughout the day, paying little mind to the glances of her neighbours as she giggled awkwardly and wrung her hands. To hell with them, she thought: she had won. She had, with the perspicacity only possessed by those with the writer’s temperament, correctly observed Togami’s hidden emotional life, and was to reap her reward now that she had shown her continuing devotion to him. She gazed longingly at his slender back in the row in front of her: what feelings were buried in his heart, what hopes did he nurse for their future...

School could not pass fast enough. She must have exuded an aura of victory, because it appeared that she was attracting negative attention from the other girls. As lessons drew to a close and her excitement increased, she could tell they were still muttering, but she would not allow it to affect her. She watched longingly as Togami, with characteristic stoicism and poise, stood upright, flicked his hair from his face in an icy gesture, and exited the classroom, sparing no one a second glance, least of all Touko.

‘These b-bimbos don’t know anything about him,’ she breathed to herself, and jerked her head to glare at Asahina Aoi, that air-headed girl from the swimming club with the gross tan and preposterous chest—probably fake—who immediately averted her eyes from the intensity with which they were met by Touko’s.

Grabbing her bag from the back of the room, Touko scurried out, flushed and smiling in her grimacing way. ‘P-Probably thinking how much I m-make her sick, since she c-can’t imagine how anyone c-could live without being d-disgustingly happy all the time...’

No matter. Her prayers had been answered. She had waited so long to be recognised—like an ugly little caterpillar waiting to come out of her cocoon—and only someone as remarkable as Togami could overlook how superficially repellent she was and still care about her despite that. How grateful she was, to have been chosen by him—ah, but she was getting ahead of herself.

‘Byakuya-sama,’ she sighed, clutching her chest as she tripped her way dreamily down the stairs, ‘you must really l-love me, Byakuya-sama, to s-send such an indecent m-message to someone like me...’

What had driven him to admit his feelings? What test had she passed? Nothing much had happened lately that would compel a confession from him, but the circumstances made it unlikely that it was anything else. The devotion that she had shown him repeatedly was plainly about to pay off. Try as she might to resist the urge to completely succumb to delusion, her head was soon filled with fantasies of her future life with Byakuya as she crossed the threshold of the school into the humid air of late summer.

‘...And that,’ she murmured to herself, imagining an audience of Byakuya and Touko juniors, ‘is how your father fell in love with me’—and thus, with a flourish of her ghostly hand and a staccato giggle, she turned the corner of the building to face Togami, who stood on the grass glaring into the dumpsters.

‘B-Byakuya-sama,’ she said softly, her breath heavy and heart pounding, ‘you wanted to see me?’

‘Ah, Fukawa-san.’ Togami was curt as he turned to face her. ‘I’ll make this quick. Please cease your attempts to humiliate me. I knew you were a singular girl but this is a level of depravity I did not expect.’

Touko’s awkward smile disappeared. ‘Wh-What?’

‘Don’t feign ignorance, girl.’ Togami pulled his phone from his pocket and displayed the screen to Touko. Her head swimming, she took in what appeared to be a site hosting amateur web novels.

‘What is this?’

‘This,’ said Togami, ‘is twenty chapters of absolute filth that I am informed is one of this year’s most successful web novels, and by far the most popular with a certain female demographic. It is a torrid love story set at an elite academy, the tale of a cruel, brilliant rich boy and his kind, sensitive lover—also a boy. These characters, who bear more than a passing resemblance to individuals with whom you are acquainted, are written with—I will admit—remarkable care and detail, which I am to understand distinguishes it among the offerings on this deplorable page, but only makes your involvement in its creation more obvious. You are to cease writing this, and take it down from this website. I understand that it will likely circulate elsewhere online, but if you act quickly to remove it now I will not pursue the matter further.’

Touko pushed her glasses up and stared at the words onscreen in shock. ‘B-But I didn’t do this!’ She shook her head violently. ‘I’d n-never do something like this to you! Not to you—and I’d never go on a l-l-lowbrow, tacky website like this anyway, forget p-posting a whole story! B-Byakuya-sama, you d-don’t really think I’d do this, do you?’ She wiped her nose and looked up earnestly into his eyes, which were cool and impenetrable as ever.

‘You are the only one whom I believe capable of it. No one else could portray these characters with such accuracy nor with such obvious skill, much as it pains me to admit it. If you really thought you could get away with this, you’re as stupid as you are disgusting.’

Touko dropped to her knees under the onslaught, her vision blurring. ‘N-No, it’s not true. Please believe me—I know I’m disgusting, I know it, and you’re r-right to say it’—Touko inhaled, gathering herself—‘but you’re so eminent, so b-beloved: there could be any n-number of girls who would write about a h-handsome heir and eligible bachelor like you. Your name, your appearance, and your attendance at Hope’s P-Peak are all p-publicly available information—I wouldn’t do it to you, not when I—when I only want to m-make you happy.’

‘Then delete this story,’ said Togami. ‘You know, I might’ve believed you, had you only written this story about me. What you say is true: because of my family, I am a public figure and the object of much envy and interest. It was the other character which convinced me of your authorship.’

‘The other?’

‘The romantic lead.’ Togami spat into the dumpster. ‘There are numerous comments on this story speculating as to the identification of the rich heir character with myself, but none mention any real life equivalent for his—partner. On the other hand, it took me only a cursory glance at the first chapter to recognise him as Naegi.’

‘Naegi’s in the story?’

‘Very much so.’ Togami scowled, his fine, sculpted features wrinkling. ‘I admit, against my better nature, that I have a grudging respect for that boy, but he is anything but eminent. He is, however, one of the only people able to bear your company with equanimity. Your cruelty to him in publishing this is perhaps worse than it is to me.’

Her chest full to bursting with desperation, Touko placed her hands before her and pressed her forehead to the grass, prostrating herself at Togami’s feet. ‘Please, please believe me,’ she repeated. ‘I p-promise I didn’t do it. Just let me f-figure out who did this...it’s okay if you h-hate me now’

‘Hate you? Now?’ Togami’s voice was frigid. ‘Fukawa Touko, I have held you in contempt ever since you first selected me as a target of your psychotic obsession. Let me make myself plain: I have never returned your feelings nor knowingly invited your tactless attention. You are thoroughly foul. You will be lucky if history sees fit to remember you by your works, as they may be your sole redeeming feature. If you will not admit wrongdoing in this matter, at least have the dignity to remove this trash from the public space in your own time and henceforth keep your fantasies to yourself.’

Touko did not respond nor look up as tears dripped onto her glasses. She usually took Togami’s insults on her chin but the attendant circumstances had increased their effect—she was shattered, too genuinely and unexpectedly hurt to grovel in her usual manner. Presently she heard Togami’s footsteps as he retreated from the grassy yard. After a few minutes in the embarrassing position, her phone buzzed. Groaning, she raised her upper body, relaxed her legs to rest on the grass as she wiped off her lenses, and took out the device.

_Hey, I wanted to chat with you but you ran out so fast lol, are you okay?_

‘Naegi-kun...’ Touko grumbled. ‘I guess he knows about it too, huh...’ She replied:

_I’m behind the dorms_

Naegi responded with an affirmation that he’d be there shortly. Touko stood up, brushed herself off, and wiped her face. As upsetting as the ordeal had been, she was not unused to disappointment—it was only natural for her to be despised. Maybe if she proved her innocence in this case, Togami would be forced to acknowledge her. She had overcome worse misfortunes—compared to life before she left home, Hope’s Peak Academy was paradise. Most of her peers were content to ignore her and mind their own business, although some were determined to—

‘Hey, Fukawa-san!’

—pity her.

‘Naegi-kun.’ Touko’s voice was dull and she didn’t turn to look at him. ‘You’re here about that s-stupid story, right? You think I wrote it.’

‘I don’t think—I mean,’ Naegi stuttered, ‘I don’t know what I think. But I don't believe you'd do this. Did Togami-san get to you before me? I think he’s mad.’

‘He’s mad.’ Touko exhaled, slumping forward. She felt Naegi’s hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. ‘Stoppit.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘You don’t c-care,’ said Touko. ‘You th-thought I wrote it too. Why else would y-you contact me?’ She turned to face him, and winced inwardly to see his concerned expression. Unlike the imposing Togami, he was a little shorter than Touko, and his face was gentle rather than sharply defined. It felt bad, when she hurt or troubled him with her useless burden of a personality.

‘I was worried about you.’ Naegi smiled unconvincingly, scratching his arm in a distracted fashion. ‘I wasn’t really thinking one way or the other about whether you wrote the story.’

‘L-Liar.’ Touko clutched her head as residual embarrassment throbbed through her. ‘I don’t know what I’m s-supposed to do. I c-can’t do anything about it.’

‘Fukawa-san.’

‘It’s just as well.’ Touko laughed bitterly and buried the tears that were threatening to reemerge. ‘I d-deserve to be associated with a t-trashy story like that. I just th-thought if I showed Byakuya-sama how d-devoted I c-could be—since there’s nothing else I have to offer...I d-deserve everything he said about me.’

‘That’s wrong,’ said Naegi, eliciting another laugh from Touko.

‘I don’t need you to p-pity me,’ said Touko. ‘I’ve always got by on my own. I’ll f-find out who did this and clear my name.’

Naegi, as he often did, offered her a weak smile. ‘For now, maybe you should just rest. You look like you’ve been crying.’

Touko crossed her arms defensively. ‘Aren’t you mad?’

‘Why would I be mad?’

Touko balled her fists and averted her eyes. ‘Because apparently, you’re in the web novel. As a r-romantic lead.’

‘M-Me?’

‘I haven’t read it,’ continued Touko, ‘b-but that’s what he said.’

When she looked back at Naegi, he was blushing rather severely. ‘That’s pretty—interesting, but I’m not mad. Even if you did write it, it wouldn’t make me mad.’

‘It does mean that the culprit is probably at Hope’s Peak,’ added Touko. ‘Togami is pretty famous but there’s no reason most people outside of the academy would know who you are.’

‘That’s a good point,’ said Naegi. ‘Look, I’ll contact Kirigiri about it. She’s really good at this stuff; I’m sure she’d be a big help.’

‘No!’ Touko shook her head violently, grabbing at her braids as her cheeks burned. ‘Don’t you dare tell anyone! All of this is just an excuse to make fun of me! I bet that’s why the story was written in the first place! Someone saw the one thing I can do well and wanted to take that from me by copying _my_ style to write this t-t-trashy sex story! Maybe it was her! She’s smart and has lots of friends and I bet she thinks I’m such a loser!’

‘Okay, okay.’ Naegi placed his hand on Touko’s shoulder again. ‘How about you just go back to your room and rest for a bit?’

Touko grit her teeth and avoided Naegi’s gaze. ‘Yes, that isn’t the worst idea,’ she grumbled. Equally, the thought of being alone with her feelings after what had just happened was unappealing. ‘Say, Naegi-kun...’

‘Yeah?’

‘D-Don’t take this the wrong way, but...’ Touko squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Can you come back with me? Actually, you’re probably b-busy with c-club activities, so just forget I—’

‘Wh-What? Yeah, of course,’ replied Naegi, with uncharacteristic discomfort—yes, of course he was uncomfortable. He was obviously thinking of how disgusting her room must be, the repulsive idea of being alone with her, maybe imagining that horrible smell her parents used to complain about—or maybe he was taking it as an invitation, and that was even more disgusting. Showing her pity to try and have his way with her—and then he’d throw her away and laugh at her with his popular friends. She’d be a laughing stock forever. Anger and embarrassment rose swiftly in her breast.

‘Get those d-disgusting thoughts out of your head,’ she growled, still looking away from Naegi. ‘If you try anything I swear I’ll stab you with a p-pair of scissors.’

‘I wasn’t thinking anything like that!’

‘Maybe you should be.’ Touko sniffed and met Naegi’s anxious gaze. His eyes were a soft, nutty green, the opposite of Togami’s inexpressive blue. ‘You’re too nice to people,’ she continued. ‘I’m j-just taking advantage of your pity. Just b-because you’re a sap who’s willing to pretend you d-don’t...’ She shook her head, the tears returning.

Naegi jostled Touko gently and she shrugged him off again. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. Just come with me. Or don’t.’ Touko gestured at Naegi to follow as she set off back towards the entrance to the dorms.

Of course, Naegi came with her, blushing all the way. He was kind, too kind to her—although she knew it was nothing special; after all, his role in their class had always been that of the mediator. At a school where extraordinary specialisation was a condition of admission, Naegi was here simply to be normal—the generalist, the heart which connected them all to each other. He was just doing his job, and yet Touko couldn’t stop her wretched thoughts from inflating her expectations.

Touko’s room was not the dismal sight that she imagined it to be, but it was nonetheless rather spare and uninviting. She kept the handful of clothes she possessed reasonably tidy in the closet, but much of the floor was concealed by books—mostly large, dense literary works—and there was indeed a cloistered aroma hanging in the air, like mould or rot. On her desk there rested an incomplete manuscript, some scattered stationery, and a small aquarium, inside which was housed a fat and rather satisfied-looking stink bug. Touko’s bed was unmade and appeared to be the most powerful source of the room’s lingering scent.

Foregoing the main light for the desk lamp so the room was dim and gloomy, Touko invited Naegi to sit on the room’s only chair—which he accepted after a hazardous journey through her maze of books—while she took a spot at the edge of the bed, slumping over with her chin in her hands. The pair remained in silence for a few minutes before Naegi spoke up.

‘Fukawa-san? Did you want to talk?’

‘I told you,’ said Touko. ‘I’m using you for your p-pity. If you’re such a masochist you’ll sit in my f-filth and pretend you’re not disgusted, then that’s your misfortune.’

‘I’m not disgusted. I just wondered, since I’m here, if there was something you wanted to talk about, or...?’

‘N-Not really.’ Touko snorted in irritation and drove her fingers into her matted hair. ‘I feel s-sad and I don’t want to be alone. Even if you’re just being n-nice so you can feel better about yourself—’

‘Hey,’ said Naegi, ‘have I ever treated you like that? Like I don’t want to be your friend?’

‘Everyone treats me like that.’ Touko sighed and released her grip on her hair as her scalp began to hurt. ‘But it _is_ nice of you.’ She looked away, the words lingering for a few moments. ‘I bet this is your first time in a g-girl’s room,’ she murmured, ‘so I’m doing you a favour.’ 

Naegi snickered. ‘Of course.’ He glanced at her desk. ‘This is your latest work?’

‘Yes,’ replied Touko. ‘I’ll thank you for not reading it in its present condition. But naturally I’m far too busy to be distracted with some e-erotic web novel.’

‘I’m sure it’s great.’

‘Don’t flatter me.’

‘It’s not flattery,’ said Naegi, chuckling. ‘You of all people don’t need to be told that you can write well.’

‘Maybe,’ grumbled Touko. ‘I just assume you don’t mean most of what you say anyway.’

‘What’s it about, anyway? The new novel.’

‘Ah.’ Touko stared into her lap uneasily. ‘It’s q-quieter than my usual work. Love story takes a backseat.’ Her stammer began to recede as she got into a rhythm. ‘It’s based on the story of my half-sister. She was unwanted, like me, but after I was born she was sent to live with her dad. Her prospects were never good, but what little hope for a better life she had was extinguished. She had to move to Yamagata prefecture, to a tiny farming village. She’s probably still there. My family might be pretty awful, but I was lucky, in a way. I escaped. And so I wanted to write a story for her stolen life, to give it some dignity, and beauty.’

Naegi smiled. ‘I remember you once told me that you wanted people to see the beauty in ugliness through your writing.’

‘Yes.’ Touko pressed her hands to her cheeks as they flushed. ‘I say some pretty e-embarrassing things, I guess...’

‘It’s not embarrassing.’ Naegi’s voice was low and gentle. ‘I’m very aware how ordinary my life has been compared to most of the other students. The fact that you’ve lived at such extremes is really amazing to me. You’ve suffered a lot but you’ve also made it into a kind of strength, while my life just seems—mediocre in comparison.’

‘It’s n-not that bad.’ Touko’s lips twitched into a grimacing smile. ‘You shouldn’t p-pity me. Ever since I m-moved to Hope’s Peak, it’s b-been like a good dream. I d-don’t really have a right to complain...’

‘You don’t seem so happy right now, though.’ Naegi crossed his legs. ‘You had a pretty unorthodox family, huh...?’

‘Ah, you kn-know...’ Touko stuttered witlessly for a moment, her emotions too fraught to summon a convincing facade. ‘I was an a-accident, basically. Just a burden on my parents.’ She paused, chewing her lip. ‘I guess my d-dad used to s-slap me a bit when he was mad, and my moms didn’t really c-care about me unless they th-thought I w-was doing something bad, so sometimes they'd l-lock me in a c-c-closet for b-being annoying...’

‘Fukawa-san...’

‘I d-didn’t really understand just how ab-abnormal it was,’ Touko continued, ‘t-till I met you and you t-told me about your family.’ Realising what she had said, she turned crimson and hurriedly added, ‘I’m s-s-sorry for unloading on you suddenly—I’m really too emotional right now so you shouldn’t l-listen to me at all—not that you’re listening to me anyway—’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Naegi, ‘but thank you for telling me.’

‘I d-don’t like to t-talk about it,’ Touko said, ‘because I w-worry someone might t-try and call the police or something s-stupid. B-But you’re such a sap that you p-probably won’t, just because I t-tell you not t-to.’ She avoided Naegi’s eyes, staring at her frumpy white socks. ‘You’re r-really stupid in that way.’

‘I’ll admit I worry about you,’ said Naegi, ‘but I wouldn’t betray a friend.’

‘I’m free of them now.’ Touko ran her hand over her braid absently. ‘Mostly I just want to f-forget about it. My books support me and I’m at a good school where m-my talent is respected. I shouldn’t be complaining. I don’t know why I feel the need to tell you.’ She scowled. ‘Y-You’re just l-looking down your nose at me, probably.’

Naegi, apparently used to the insults, just rolled his eyes and smiled at her. ‘I’m not looking down at anyone. I’m happy you trust me enough to confide in me at all.’

Touko narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re r-really dumb for coming here. S-Someone might see you leave and g-get the wrong idea. They’ll th-think you’re gross, and they’d be right. Don’t you know how this looks?’ She clamped down on her lip to stop herself from talking.

Naegi turned to look at the stink bug, ignoring Touko’s comment. ‘You didn’t tell me you had a pet.’

‘Kameko,’ said Touko. ‘She’s m-my stink bug. I think she’s the only one who u-understands me.’

Naegi watched as the insect plodded slowly over the leaf litter towards a piece of tomato, her marbled back catching the lamplight attractively. ‘She’s pretty.’

‘She’s not,’ said Touko. ‘At least, not according to most people. She’s a pest that eats crops and smells of rot. But I d-do think she’s pretty. And that’s why she understands me. That’s why I’m good at writing: I can see how Kameko is prettier than anything. And I’ll make everyone see it.’

It took Naegi a few moments to respond, during which he continued to observe the gradual, placid progress of the insect. ‘If you can see something special in Kameko that no one else can, isn’t it possible that someone could see something special in you as well?’

‘Urgh, I walked into that...’ Touko flopped back onto the bed. ‘Where’d you learn to b-be so smooth with g-girls? You look so innocent and then you say s-something so indecent—in my room, no less. If I borrowed lines like that for my stories, people wouldn’t find it credible...’

‘That’s nice of you to say.’ Naegi chuckled softly. ‘But I really am curious.’

‘I think it’s totally different. People just misunderstand Kameko because she’s a bug and we’re humans. She’s just trying to eat and survive. I’m not m-misunderstood. I’m exactly as bad as I look—for most people anyway. Maybe not for publishers since I line their pockets.’

‘What about me? Am I like most people?’

‘No, you really _do_ misunderstand me,’ said Touko. ‘You think you have to be nice to me or something and ignore me when I tell you to stop. If you were a farmer, you’d let Kameko eat all your crops.’

‘That sounds like something Fujisaki-san would do,’ said Naegi, ‘but I don’t think I’m quite that bad.’

‘Fujisaki-san, huh?’ Touko scoffed. ‘Another girlfriend.’

Naegi laughed. ‘Fujisaki is a boy. He’s been open about that for nearly six months now.’

A flush crept over Touko’s face. ‘Well, I don’t talk to m-many people except you. That’s kind of interesting, though...’

‘He’s more than kind of interesting!’ Naegi exclaimed. ‘He’s one of the sweetest and most accepting people I’ve ever met. You’d probably be pretty good friends if you gave him a shot.’

‘Maybe,’ said Touko, sighing. ‘But right now, I just want to take a nap. If you could just—stick around until I’m asleep...’

‘Really?’ Naegi's blush was practically audible. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with that?’

‘I don’t really have anyone else I t-trust enough.’ Touko pulled her feet up on top of the duvet. ‘But since you’re such a sap and I d-don’t want to be alone...’

‘I’ll stay here,’ said Naegi. ‘It’s not a problem. But—Fukawa-san, could I just ask you one thing?’

‘Hmm?’

‘What would you say if I—’ Naegi cut himself off.

‘If you what?’

Silence. ‘I was just wondering,’ said Naegi slowly, ‘if I could call you Touko-san.’

Touko was so taken aback by the request that she was unsure how to respond. No one addressed her so personally. For some reason, her heart was pounding. Had she the emotional energy, Touko might’ve protested—assuming that she wouldn’t simply die of embarrassment. However, she was very, very tired, far too tired to summon any resistance. She turned over to face the wall and curled into a foetal position. ‘If you want.’ Breathing heavily, she chewed on her thumb and pressed her fingers into her chest, hugging herself. ‘I’ll c-call you Makoto-kun, okay?’ she said, and immediately cursed herself for saying it. What kind of idiot was she to let him address her in this way? And moreover to reciprocate the gesture? What about Byakuya-sama? A tightness oppressed her chest, chains of her own design.

‘I’d like that,’ said Makoko.

‘You’d like that. Great.’ Touko sniffed. ‘You’re weird.’

‘You think so?’

‘Y-Yeah.’ There was no benefit to him in calling her by her name. Imagine what his friends would think if he called her by her first name in front of them—or worse, if she came up to him calling him ‘Makoto-kun’. Even the supposedly open-minded Fujisaki probably wouldn’t stay friends with him much longer if they thought that he was—that they were—

Touko ceased her line of inquiry and closed her eyes. ‘You shouldn’t b-be nice to me like this. I’ll s-start th-thinking—you’ll b-be...’ Her mouth, like a rusted door dividing her heart from the world, refused to release the words.

‘Shh. Just sleep.’

‘Mmm.’

As Touko drifted off, Naegi watched Kameko slowly poke her proboscis into the tomato, her face motionless and inscrutable as she putrefied and consumed the fruit. Unprompted, he smiled gently, the tension in his body departing as the quiet deepened.

When Touko began to snore, Naegi stood up; but before he could exit, he was disturbed by a rustling sound behind him.

‘Touko-san?’

All of a sudden there was an arm around his torso and the hair-tingling sensation of metal against his neck. Naegi gasped but didn’t dare to move.

‘I guess you could call me that,’ a voice breathed, tickling his ear. It was almost hers, and yet something was off. ‘But you probably know me better by another name, Ma-kun...’

‘Touko-san?’ Naegi repeated lamely, frozen in place. Glancing down, he realised that the blade against his throat was a pair of scissors.

‘Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,’ said the voice that wasn’t quite Touko’s. ‘Serial killer and serial admirer of Japan’s most beautiful men, kills only with the most elegant scissors, leaves a heartfelt message in blood at the scene of every crime...’

‘Serial killer?’ Memories of gruesome news stories shot through Naegi’s head. ‘G-Genocider Shou? Where’s Tou—’

‘Ding ding ding!’ The voice laughed into Naegi’s ear. ‘Now, if you promise to keep my secret, I won’t kill you. And please, please, Ma-kun, say yes, because I really don’t wanna kill you, as much of a pretty boy as you are...’

‘Your secret?’

‘The secret that creepy little crazy little Touko,’ the voice replied in a sing-song voice, ‘is actually even crazier when she needs to blow off some steam.’

‘Wh-what? What does that mean? Is Touko-san okay?’

‘Tick-tock, tick-tock!’ Shou’s blade delicately caressed his throat. ‘You know, Touko would be so sad if I had to kill you, so I’d really recommend being a good friend! That’s what you’ve been telling her this whole year, right? That you’re her friend? Aren’t you her friend, Ma-kun? Isn’t friendship beautiful? Doesn’t friendship overcome all misery and despair in the end?’

‘Okay, okay, I promise!’

The blade disappeared and the arm released its grip. Naegi stumbled forward and swiveled around to face his assailant.

It was Touko—and yet, somehow not. Her tongue dangled drolly from her mouth, her eyes were dark and red, and she stood proud and upright, quite unlike Touko’s typically hunched posture. In her hand she held a pair of viciously sharp scissors.

‘You’re—Genocider Shou?’

‘The one and only!’ Touko—or Shou—twirled the scissors around her finger and replaced them in the folds of her skirt. ‘It’s just fantastic to finally meet you! You’re just as adorable as I expected...’

Naegi backed into the door, gasping and clutching his throat protectively. ‘G-Genocider Shou hasn’t killed for nearly two years now. Everyone thought he was—’

‘ _She_ —I’ll thank you for addressing me properly,’ Shou cut in. ‘No, it seems ever since Madam Miseryguts found herself in more enviable circumstances, she had little need of me. Shame!’ She grinned widely, in an expressive fashion that was unfamiliar on Touko’s face.

‘So you’re Touko’s—’

‘I’m what happens when a crazy little girl dissociates from all her _nastiest_ feelings and secrets and turns them into her own little monster,’ said Shou, ‘and lucky her! She’s not had the occasion to feel anything like that for a long time—not until very recently, in fact.’

Naegi blanched. ‘Are you s-saying Touko-san wants to kill me?’

‘What!’ Shou frowned at him, her tongue lolling. ‘You’re not the brightest kid, are you?’

‘Then what?’

‘Urgh!’ Shou put her hands on her hips and turned up her nose. ‘All the effort I put into it and it’s gone to waste on you! Touko, do you hear me? This is pearls before pigs! Pearl before pigs!’

‘Shou—’

‘Ma-kun, can’t you understand a girl’s feelings at all? I really would kill you if you weren’t so cute.’

Naegi’s mind cleared as the answer came into focus. ‘That story—it was you?’

‘Of course it was me!’ Shou let out a shrieking laugh, spraying Naegi with saliva. ‘Do you think any of those amateurs in our class could write a story of forbidden love between boys without descending into cringeworthy cliché?’

‘Yamada-san, maybe—’

‘Speaking as a fellow enthusiast: his interests run in other directions.’ Shou approached Naegi, eyes wide in a mocking display of sincerity. ‘Ma-kun, didn’t you read my story?’

‘I didn’t, no,’ said Naegi. ‘I just thought it was about Togami—’

‘Oh! Byakuya-sama!’ Shou’s heady giggle made Naegi wince. ‘But he’s not the only one we’ve been hung up on—I just had to get all these feelings out or things might’ve got bloody...mmm...’ To Naegi’s evident discomfort, Shou hugged herself and licked her lips noisily.

‘Wh-Why are you telling me this?’

‘Aw, who knows?’ Shou yawned, extending her arms and stretching like a cat. ‘She’s a total bore, you know, doesn’t usually let anyone see me—so some part of her probably wanted to tell you about me.’

‘You mean Touko-san?’

‘Mm-hm.’ Shou inched nearer and nearer, until Naegi could smell the faintly acrid scent that shadowed her infrequently washed body. ‘That and the fact that I _really_ want to slice up your adorable little face tells me a lot about what she’s feeling.’

‘Uh, what is _that_ supposed to mean?’ Naegi pressed his back into the door and shuddered as Shou leaned in to breathe wetly into his ear.

‘Don’t worry,’ Shou whispered. ‘I want to kill you so much that it’s come out the other side: I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. Now, if only I could keep Ma-kun in a little glass case like Kameko and do whatever I wanted to him forever and ever without _actually_ killing him—’

‘P-Please don’t.’

‘Give me one reason not to,’ Shou murmured. ‘If I let you around those schoolyard sluts too long, you’ll betray us.’

‘I won’t do that,’ Naegi said emphatically.

‘What?’ said Shou flatly. ‘Are you saying you actually like her? Are you insane? A sadist? YouTube prankster?’

‘No! I-l-like Touko-san! I like her.’

‘For real? Okay, you’re really just lying now. She’s the human equivalent of an overcast day.’

Naegi shook his head. ‘It’s not true. She’s a good person.’

Shou made an exaggerated display of her thinking, stroking her chin as her tongue swung from side to side. ‘Let’s see: she’s mean, miserly, miserable, and morose. Nope! No good person there, sorry!’

‘She’s clever and insightful,’ said Naegi, ‘and once you get past her defences, she’s really kind. Idealistic, even. Honestly, I didn’t think I was good enough for her, especially with Togami-san...’ 

Shou laughed for altogether too long.

‘I’m not joking! That’s how I feel.’

‘How am I supposed to believe you?’ asked Shou with an exaggerated pout. ‘You haven’t even asked her out, and you’ve just found out she shares her mind with a retired serial killer—although I gotta admit you seem awful sanguine about it. Pretty cool for a cute little boy like you, Ma-kun!’ Once again, Shou’s fingers wrapped possessively around his abdomen.

‘Th-This is a lot to take in,’ Naegi choked out unconvincingly. ‘Just give me a day and—I’ll get it done.’

‘Get it done?’ Shou snickered, and her tongue brushed Naegi’s ear. ‘Just what are you thinking of doing to Touko? You indecent boy.’

‘I d-didn’t mean—’

Shou shushed him in a soothing tone. ‘Aw, you’re so easy to tease. I don’t know if you’re a peach or just an easy mark! But I can see why she likes you.’

‘So she does l-like me?’ Naegi swallowed awkwardly as Shou’s hands tightened around him.

‘She does. I don’t think she understands it very well, but she does. Enough that I can feel it.’ Shou nuzzled his thick, tufty hair. ‘Enough that if I let you go now, and you don’t make your play for her maidenhood, I’ll have you suspended between my scissor blades before the weekend is through...ehehe, your body crippled under my discipline, your blood mixing with mine...’ Shou felt Naegi tense up against her. ‘Do you like the sound of that?’

‘I like the sound of you letting me go,’ said Naegi, ‘and I’ll—I’ll tell her how I feel.’

‘No excuses if you don’t—or maybe that’s what you _really_ want.’ Shou caressed Naegi’s chest, still laughing in her manic way. ‘But I’ll give you a chance, for Ol’ Gloomy’s sake if nothing else. See, there’s a reason I cooked up this story. Here’s my offer...’

Naegi gulped.

* * *

When Touko woke up, she had a new message waiting for her from Naegi on her phone, which was lying in front of her—had she left it there? Heat spread through her cheeks and she hugged her knees as the memory of the day’s events returned to her. The humiliation of her rejection followed by Naegi—no, Makoto’s kindness. She wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved, comforted, or depressed, but depressed seemed like the easiest option.

‘Well, no matter.’

Her first order of business, naturally, was to ascertain the identity of her imitator. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected Kirigiri. She was close with Makoto—yes, Kirigiri was jealous of his attention to her! Girls were always the most hateful towards her, but if it was Makoto on the line, Touko had to stand up for herself.

The time was 7 PM; there was still good time to visit Kirigiri in her room. Raising herself from the bed, Touko emitted a low groan—somehow, she felt less rested than she ought to, and not for the first time in the past couple of months. That usually didn’t mean good things with regard to her little secret.

Perhaps the stress was getting to her. She checked her phone for Makoto’s message:

_I think I have a pretty good idea of who wrote that story, want to meet up tomorrow to talk about it? Sleep well, feel better soon_

Touko hurriedly put away the phone, blushing and smiling uncomfortably as though someone were watching her. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered, ‘idiot, idiot, idiot.’

Besides the rare visit entailed by an errand she was running for a teacher, Touko hadn’t called on any of the other students at the dorm, least of all the distant, beautiful Kirigiri. She didn’t seem like an indecent girl, like that boobs-for-brains Asahina—but perhaps that made her all the more dangerous! Had she been scheming against her all along? Standing in front of Kirigiri’s door, Touko grappled with a mixture of righteous fury and excruciating anxiety.

‘She won’t turn Na-Makoto-kun against m-me,’ Touko whispered. ‘M-Maybe he already hates me, but I’m the only one who a-allowed to m-make him hate me.’

Her resolve secure, she knocked, and Kirigiri responded in a matter of moments, opening the door by a crack. As always, her expression was cool and impassive, but Touko was undeterred.

‘Oh, Fukawa-san,’ Kirigiri said in a level voice, ‘it’s you.’

‘D-Don’t “it’s you” at me, you n-nasty girl!’ Touko spluttered. ‘I b-bet you’ve been laughing at me all day.’

‘Why would I be doing that?’

‘Because of that wr-wretched story you wrote! How f-f-far are you people willing to go to humiliate me? Admit it: you’re the d-d-dirty scoundrel responsible for this!’

Kirigiri rolled her eyes. ‘Really, you’re smart enough to know I’m not the author.’

‘See!’ Touko’s voice was choked as she pointed accusingly at Kirigiri. ‘How did you kn-know what I was t-talking about?’

‘Fukawa-san,’ said Kirigiri carefully, opening the door wider and leaning against the frame, ‘I don’t mean to offend when I say everyone knows about it, and almost everyone thinks it’s you.’

Touko felt as though someone were tying up her guts into a knot. ‘A-Almost everyone?’

Kirigiri smiled ironically. ‘Naegi-kun, ever pure-hearted, thought it was best not to jump to conclusions.’

He believed in her? Makoto believed in her? When all the others didn’t? Suddenly bashful, Touko concealed her embarrassment with outrage.

‘Of c-course he did! B-Because it wasn’t me! I might be r-repulsive to a p-person like you, someone who would n-never even try to imagine what l-life might be like for a creature so b-beneath her, but at least M-Makoto-kun understands—’ As the name passed her lips, Kirigiri raised her eyebrow, her smile deepening, and Touko clapped her hands over her mouth with a squeak.

‘I see,’ said Kirigiri. ‘Well, I’ll admit it’s an improvement from...’

‘Shut up!’ cried Touko. ‘Shut up, shut up, shut up! If you’re n-not going to help me, then I don’t want to hear any of your snide remarks. I a-already know just what you all th-think of me. Just leave me alone!’

‘I didn’t write the story,’ said Kirigiri, ‘but I think I know who did.’

Touko snapped to attention. ‘Who? Answer me! Who’s out trying to s-sabotage me like this?’

‘It’s just supposition,’ qualified Kirigiri. ‘Still, it should be easy for you to figure out the person I’m thinking of.’

‘I’m n-not a big shot detective like you,’ replied Touko. ‘Just tell me!’

‘You won’t like the answer.’

‘I d-don’t care!’

Kirigiri sighed, placing a gloved hand to her temple. ‘She’s someone you know very intimately—someone you’ve been trying to keep _secret_.’

At the word ‘secret’, Touko stiffened, her eyes expanding as her pupils contracted. It took only a few seconds for the pieces to fall into place. ‘N-No, no, no...’

It was just as well that her rotten luck would come back to bite her eventually. Since arriving at Hope’s Peak, the incidents had stopped—on rare occasions Touko would wake up in unfamiliar places, but the usual trail of destruction was absent. She had started to believe that things had changed, a typically pathetic delusion: even now, Genocider Shou was determined to kill her prospects, if not literally.

‘I see you’ve put it together.’ For some reason, Kirigiri’s features softened, as though she were sad. ‘I haven’t told anyone about her, by the way.’

‘Y-You haven’t?’

‘You may not believe me, but our class isn’t that vindictive,’ said Kirigiri. ‘Or I’m not, at least.’

Lowering her voice, Touko wrapped her arms around herself nervously. ‘But what if she—y-you know...’

‘She hasn’t, and it’s not my business unless she makes it my business.’ Kirigiri smirked. ‘Mostly she just sneaks out to watch the boys sleeping. I put two and two together when I saw the scissors. I thought it might’ve been you in a disguise at first, but given your response here, I’m assuming the problem is more complex.’

‘Urgh...’

‘For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t be so worried.’ Kirigiri’s smile was almost reassuring. ‘If it’s Naegi-kun you’re interested in—’

‘I n-never said I was in-interested in...!’

‘—my professional diagnosis as a detective is that your little _secret_ ’s plan may have worked just as she intended.’

Touko’s expression registered confusion.

‘Just give it the weekend,’ said Kirigiri archly. ‘I’m quite confident in my prediction.’

‘What are you s-suggesting?’ grumbled Touko. ‘You’re just t-teasing me.’

‘Maybe I am.’ Kirigiri shrugged, flipping her hair. ‘I think you’ll be okay though. Anyway, could you excuse me? If I’m cleared of suspicion then I should get back to my work...’

Touko waved her off with a curt good night and shuffled back to her room under a heavy raincloud. Just what crimes had she accumulated in past lives to deserve this punishment? That _she_ was behind the web novel was so obvious in retrospect that her failure to recognise it could only be chalked up to denial. Now she had the unenviable task of concealing the information from Makoto—maybe it would be easiest if she simply took responsibility for the story. If he knew her secret, he’d never talk to her again. Of that she was sure.

Still, why now? Nothing had changed of much import over the past year: she spent her days writing, fantasising about a boy who hated her, and talking with Makoto—Makoto, who despite all her efforts was coming to occupy more of her time and more of her thoughts than she considered acceptable. The kindness he showed her made her ashamed: ashamed of her ugliness, her obvious inadequacy. It was the kindness that belonged to those happy, superficial idiots who’d never suffered misfortune, the kindness that dried up when it was met with genuine wretchedness; if he weren’t playing her for a fool, it was nothing but shameful on both of them.

‘Stupid,’ she sighed as she closed her door behind her. ‘Stupid me. Stupid Makoto-kun.’ He had asked to call her by her name, and no amount of mental contrivance allowed her to interpret the request as anything but sincere—it was unacceptable. It went beyond just ‘friends’. It was too direct. Dirty, even. Was he really thinking of her like _that_ as he sat in her own room, no more than a metre away from her? She covered her eyes as her heart thudded almost painfully. How could she make herself so vulnerable? A wild part of her wished she could summon up that little secret of hers to eliminate him and save herself the anguish.

It was then that the thought occurred to her: she had woken up feeling restless, which was almost certainly a sign that _she_ was exposing Touko to public discovery. And just who had been in her room when she’d made her appearance?

Touko went white as realisation dropped like a rock in her stomach. He knew. _He knew_. She hastily pulled out her phone to review the message she’d received from Makoto.

 _He knew_. That’s what he was talking about. That’s why he wanted to meet her about it. Not because of any detective work, but because he knew her secret. He’d seen it firsthand.

Touko collapsed onto her bed and pushed her face into her pillow as she screamed. Her careless wish had been granted. Whatever small happiness she had childishly imagined herself to possess was already gone.

* * *

_Twilight of the Yagami, or How to Romanticise with Scissors_

_Yagami_. It was hardly a disguise. However, more than the distortion of Togami’s name, it was the title of the web novel itself that immediately suggested Touko—and her sinister alter ego—as the author; the reference had flown over Makoto’s head and it was only a comment on the story which had clarified it for him. If anything, titling an erotic web novel with a Nietzsche-referencing pun was almost too conspicuously literary for Touko—but not for Shou. Makoto could practically hear her pronouncing it with mock-profundity. The work began with a short note from the author, who had adopted the handle ‘SilverFingers’:

_Let me get one thing straight: I’m a total rotten girl pervert and this work is unsuitable for anyone averse to boy’s love, violence, sex, violent sex, blood, non-con, bloodplay, knife—scissor?—play—do you get the idea? This is not a ‘serious’ work at all (lol), but if you enjoy it then by all means please leave me a comment with all your filthiest impressions to stimulate my delusions. I’ve written shorter pieces before but I really mined the diamonds of my depravity for this: my erotic masterpiece!_

No mistaking Shou’s irrepressible character. Makoto sighed and rested the phone on his desk. He wasn’t particularly interested in mining her depravity, but following the shock of his encounter with Shou, curiosity has got the better of him. The work, which totalled over 150,000 words and had accumulated as many views, was not only too sordid but far too extensive for Makoto to seriously consider reading it, but the temptation of seeing how Shou would interpret his character was altogether too great.

After skimming the first chapter, which chronicled the secret shame of the Yagami heir—namely, a desire to dominate and dismember other boys—and its activation at his elite high school, where he meets his ‘finely formed’ classmate, the introverted but optimistic Kusagi, Makoto was already ready to abandon the project. Happily, through a combination of chapter summaries and scanning the comments, he was able to piece together an impression of the story without subjecting himself to any more descriptions of blood-encrusted bodies.

Much of the novel was devoted to the cat-and-mouse erotic escalations between Yagami and Kusagi, which begin after the latter discovers Yagami’s secret. Yagami, distrusting Kusagi’s intentions, offers to pay him off, which offends his integrity. Nonetheless, the ‘beautiful boy’ Kusagi has a dark side too, and he secretly delights in the simultaneous position of power and subjection he occupies; the erotic adventures increase in their stakes and intensity, the pair freely switching roles and risking exposure in ever more violent escapades that culminate in the murder of Kusagi’s childhood crush, who rejected him publically, in the latest chapter. Several readers mentioned Genocider Shou in their remarks, to which ‘SilverFingers’ coyly replied that she was a great admirer.

It was not difficult to identify the diminutive Kusagi with himself. With that said, the character resembled less an exact copy of Makoto so much as a combination of his personality with Shou's, an impression that was magnified by the fact that she had chosen to combine his surname with Touko’s. That he was apparently at the forefront of Touko’s mind, such that her—what should he call her?—dissociative alter ego was connecting him with Togami, generated in Makoto something between tenderness and anxiety. Although it was clearly the product of a mind possessed of altogether different interests than Touko’s, none of her talent for the written word was lost in the transition, as was apparent by the large audience Shou had accumulated for her niche erotic work.

Despite lingering questions about Shou’s relationship with Touko and the story’s challenging subject matter, Makoto’s gentleness and optimism dictated that he take his inclusion in the web novel as a compliment—although he realised quickly that the self-loathing Touko was unlikely to apprehend that without some reassurance. It was already night and she had yet to message him back.

—Which, in turn, would make it difficult to follow through on Shou’s demands. Tomorrow would certainly be a test of his courage. Makoto looked back down at the story still displayed on his phone:

_‘Wh-What have...’ For once in his life, Yagami was speechless._

_Slick with sweat and a patina of irony disguising his expression, Kusagi stood over the mutilated body of Imai Yukiko. He had removed his shirt to carry out the deed and the taint of blood clung like sin to his white body; it did not belong on his thin, supple abdomen, his boyish chest, impossibly pale in the lamplight. In his red right hand he carried the ornamented scissors he had taken from the Yagami estate—the scissors with which he had sliced open Imai’s guts._

_‘I-I did it.’ Kusagi was breathless, invigorated with adrenaline. ‘Yagami-sama, I did it just as you wanted...’ His voice still had its faint lilt—even now there was that playful ambivalence that left Yagami clueless as to whether he was being teased or adulated—whether he should embrace the boy or kill him there to rest in the entrails of his ‘first love’._

A test of his courage, indeed.

* * *

_Dear ‘Genocider Shou’,_

_It is unfortunate that I have the occasion to acknowledge your existence, but I have been the victim of your sabotage one too many times. Why are you doing this to me? I would welcome a return to mass murder given your present activities, which threaten my reputation as a novelist. You may kill any boys you like except Byakuya-sama. And Makoto-kun, I suppose. In return you are to stop besmirching my name with your trashy story._

_Best regards,_ _  
_ _Touko_

_Dearest Touko,_

_no this is fun lmao_

_Shou xoxo_

Touko found Shou’s sardonic response, whose kisses were written in blood (hers? Makoto’s?), in the morning following her discovery of the web novel; it was scrawled below her own note, which she had written as a gesture of good will before she fell asleep. Balling the scrap paper in her fist and squeezing until her knuckles whitened, Touko spat out a dozen expletives and banged her forehead into the desk.

Thankfully there was no school today. God help her if she had to face Byakuya or Makoto right now. Indeed, Touko had every intention of spending the entire Saturday in her room, in her pyjamas, and furthermore had enough tinned fish stored in her closet to last her the weekend. Nothing would interrupt her solitude long enough to disappoint her ever again. Ejecting incoherent sounds of anger, she seized her manuscript and set about distracting herself with work.

The strategy was mostly successful. It was noon before she suffered her first interruption, which was—of course—a message from that damnable sap Makoto. Instead of reading his doubtlessly insipid plea for attention, Touko threw the phone at the bed and shouted at it.

‘Why are you messaging me, imbecile? I’m _literally_ a serial killer—well, I would q-qualify that actually— _she’s_ the killer—but _legally_ speaking I’m responsible for the murders, right? Do you want me to wake up and find you dead? Oh, actually, I suppose _you_ wouldn’t care, huh? You’d be dead...! Like all the others...’

Rather pathetically, the phone buzzed again, and then again; now he was calling her. Oppressed by the demands of this invasive technology, Touko screamed and hid under the desk, jamming her fingers in her ears until it stopped.

‘Humanity was never meant to have telephones,’ she growled. ‘How dare a machine make these indecent vibrating noises at me in my own bedroom...not a moment’s respite from the outside...’

After the phone had stopped its activity, Touko crawled from her desk to her closet, where she retrieved a tin of sanma for lunch. Just as she began to tuck in, there was a knock on her door.

‘Fweh?’ The remaining fish between Touko’s chopsticks dropped onto her lap.

‘Touko-san?’ Makoto again? Seriously? ‘Are you okay? I have something really important to talk to you about...’

‘C-C-Can’t it wait?’ Touko moaned, carefully removing hair and lint from the fallen piece of fish before eating it with a plaintive expression.

Makoto hummed and hawed for a few seconds before replying. ‘Not really? It’s important.’

Touko reddened and her hangdog look distorted into rage. ‘Pervert! Don’t you have any delicacy? Can’t you take a hint? I’m in my bedclothes!’

‘Wh-What?’ Although muffled by the door, Makoto’s voice was suspiciously agitated.

‘I knew it! Stop thinking those reprehensible disgusting thoughts right this moment! I’m not falling for your plan. I bet you’re lying anyway—it’s just because I let you in my room yesterday, and now you think I’m a complete tramp! Is that what it is? Well, you’re wrong! Just leave me alone!’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Makoto, ‘but this can’t wait. I met _her_ yesterday—you know who—after you fell asleep, and she threatened me...’

At the mention of ‘ _her_ ’, Touko hurled herself off the chair, tripped over an enormous study edition of _Genji Monogatari_ , and fell on her face, her glasses flying; undiscouraged, she propelled herself blindly towards the room’s entrance, slamming her fist at the blurry silver region within the dimly visible frame until her fingers found the lock and finally she turned the handle, baring her teeth as she pulled the nonplussed Makoto into her room. She slammed the door behind them and panted noisily, as Makoto slipped off his shoes, took in Touko’s plain navy pyjamas, and frowned at the lingering scent of fish.

‘You’re an idiot,’ she muttered. ‘You’re such an idiot. I w-warned you so many times...I won’t let her do this...’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Makoto. ‘I’m not planning on calling the police or anything. I just—’

‘So what is it?’ Touko squinted at Makoto, unable to properly discern his features without her glasses. ‘You’re too lame to even think of extorting me, so I guess you’re just here to tell me we shouldn’t hang out anymore, right?’

Makoto bent over to pick something up, and Touko was about to continue rambling when he reached out with both hands and gently replaced her glasses on her face. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’

Touko’s cheeks were rosy as Makoto’s hands brushed them. The gesture, small as it was, made her feel delicate, like a pampered pet. ‘I guess you know that she’s responsible for that d-damned web novel,’ she grumbled. ‘I’d remove it myself, but she’s careful to logout and I don’t know the p-password. We don’t share memories. Anyway, I doubt the story is your primary concern right now.’

‘Yeah, she told me about all of that,’ said Makoto.

‘And...?’

‘And what?’

Touko folded her arms as she plopped down on her bed. ‘You know what. She’s done worse than erotic fiction.’

‘The ki—the mur—’ Makoto stammered, averting his eyes.

‘The murders,’ Touko said dully. ‘No need to be squeamish. She’s a killer. Or rather, I’m a killer. In the eyes of the law and of society, we’re the same. Not that I see it that way...’

‘I don’t either.’

Touko scowled. ‘You’re naïve. You always have been. Didn’t she threaten to kill you too? If you kn-knew what was best for you...’

‘You’re my friend. I trust you.’ Makoto fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. ‘It must’ve been hard to carry a secret like that for so long. No matter how close you got to someone—’

‘Oh, such b-boundless pity,’ said Touko sarcastically. ‘Isn’t it c-cold up there on your high horse?’

‘That’s not it,’ said Makoto. ‘Do you really think I’m like that? That I just look down on you?’

Touko laughed, sharp and ironic. ‘That’s the only reason you could still be s-spouting that sentimental crap. People have died because of me. D-Drop the pretence already. It’s just self-sacrifice at some point.’

‘Touko-san...’ Makoto leaned against the wall, looking uncharacteristically pensive. ‘It’s true that I try to be a positive person for my friends. But I don’t hang out with you for such a shallow reason. If anything, it’s selfish.’

‘You’re nice to everyone indiscriminately so you don’t feel u-useless,’ said Touko bitterly. ‘What a b-beautiful heart you possess. Same difference.’

‘I admit I can be too trusting,’ said Makoto. ‘Kirigiri-san is always saying it. Once she told me “gullible” was written on the ceiling and I looked up. But I don’t treat anyone else like I treat you. Maybe I haven’t made that clear enough.’

Vertigo overcame Touko, as though Makoto’s words had penetrated her skin and casually rearranged her insides. ‘What’s th-that supposed to mean?’ she asked lamely.

‘Shou wanted me to do something,’ continued Makoto. ‘That’s why she appeared to me. Maybe that’s why she’s been causing these problems.’

‘D-Do something?’

Makoto was silent for a moment, and Touko focused on the sound of his somewhat laboured breathing to distract from her pounding heart. ‘Touko-san,’ he began, ‘I’d like to go on a date with you.’

Touko’s mouth dropped open. A thin line of drool escaped her lips and she wiped it on her sleeve, gaping at Makoto as he watched her expectantly. ‘A d-d-d—’

Her phone, still on the bed, buzzed. Touko glanced at it and yelped, jumping off the bed and holding her head fearfully, as if she’d discovered a centipede in her sheets. Makoto’s startling question was apparently forgotten.

‘Touko-san?’

‘It’s Byakuya-sama...’

An expression of hurt passed briefly over Makoto’s face, and Touko, in a storm of ambivalent emotion, hurriedly seized the phone and handed it to him as a means of explanation:

_Fukawa-san,_

_As you have not removed the web novel we discussed yesterday, I will shortly be contacting the Togami family’s legal advisors to consider the possibility that a defamation case may be brought against you. This will be my final good faith offer to resolve the problem: speak now or forever hold your peace._

Makoto frowned at the message. ‘I didn’t realise it was this bad...’

‘Of course it is,’ snapped Touko. ‘It’s only n-natural that this would happen to me eventually. It doesn’t matter what I write, if I wrote the greatest novel of my generation or even the greatest novel of all time, because the world will always conspire to remind me of what I am. None of it is real. I’m a c-catalogue of delusions.’ Her tone flattened as she sank to her knees. ‘Just let me suffer alone, Makoto-kun. Pity won’t stop all this from happening.’

‘Hey.’ Touko winced as Makoto knelt down and laid his hand gently on hers. ‘Don’t give up so easily. I can fix this.’

‘With what? The power of hopes and dreams?’ Touko scoffed. ‘What, you’re going to go up against one of Japan’s most powerful families for the sake of a so-called friend who’s done nothing but burden you? A gullible dope going down with an ugly, miserable psycho. Poetic stuff.’

‘No,’ said Makoto. ‘I mean I can really fix this. I’m being serious.’

‘What?’

You met Togami-san behind the dorms yesterday, right?’ continued Makoto. ‘Ask him to meet there right now and I’ll make this go away.’ He squeezed Touko’s pale, unresponsive fingers but she only looked at him reproachfully.

‘What the h-hell are you talking about...?’ Her stammer returned as Makoto’s gaze remained on her, warm and steady.

‘Just send the message,’ he said gently. ‘Set up a meeting and I promise it’ll be fine. I’ll go and see him.’

Touko had never seen Makoto so confident; his words eased her nerves and rung with optimism and certainty. Despite knowing nothing of his plan, relief was already taking hold, a warmth spreading inside of her like hot tea on a cold night. It was a wholly different sensation to Byakuya’s commanding presence: Makoto was so kind, so soft, and yet she found herself trusting his reassurances completely.

‘Makoto-kun...’ Touko’s eyes blurred—this time not because of an eyewear mishap. ‘I’m scared.’ Her voice was barely audible.

‘I know. I know you’re scared.’ Makoto squeezed her hand again, and this time she gripped it back. ‘Trust me. I made her a promise...’

‘A promise?’ Touko raised her eyebrow. ‘You mean _her_?’

Makoto nodded enigmatically. ‘There’s only one thing I have to do to fulfil it.’

‘What?’

‘Let’s deal with Togami-san first,’ said Makoto. ‘I don’t want you to end up in worse trouble because of this.’

Makoto’s evasion made Touko anxious, but it felt right to trust him. ‘O-Okay.’ She picked up her phone and followed Makoto’s directions. The response was immediate:

_Understood. Be there in five minutes._

Touko swallowed and looked up at Makoto hopefully. ‘What now?’

He was still gripping her hand. ‘Trust me,’ he repeated.

Steeling herself, Touko nodded. 'I do.'

Despite his alleged upset, Togami Byakuya was as unruffled as ever when Makoto found him outside; even on his day off, he was handsomely coiffed and darkly suited, which contrasted rather powerfully with Makoto’s simple hoodie and unaffected style. In spite of the severe summer humidity, there wasn’t a drop of sweat on his porcelain visage. His usual look of disdain, however, was touched with a hint of surprise as Makoto greeted him.

‘You?’

‘I’m here in Touko-san’s stead,’ Makoto explained. ‘We know who wrote the story.’

Togami arched his eyebrow. ‘Are you suggesting it _wasn’t_ the Fukawa girl?’

‘Yes,’ said Makoto. ‘She couldn’t delete it if she wanted to. But I know who can.’

For a few seconds, Togami appeared to ignore Makoto entirely, his gaze twitchy and calculating. ‘I can’t say I believe you,’ he said at length. ‘In fact, I rather suspect that you’ve been deceived by that girl; but if you can guarantee the deletion of the story, I will entertain the possibility.’

‘Hold off on pursuing the matter until the weekend is over,’ said Makoto. ‘It will be deleted.’

‘My guess,’ said Togami, ‘is that you’re trying to protect her.’ He scoffed. ‘You're soft, egregiously soft.’

‘Maybe I am,’ replied Makoto. ‘I’m not wrong, though. I know who did this.’

‘Keep on behaving this way,’ continued Togami with no acknowledgement of Makoto’s response, ‘and you’ll undermine your own credibility.’

‘Togami-san, will you back off if the story is deleted before the end of the weekend?’

Togami gazed at Makoto like he was a disobedient animal, and for an unpleasant moment Makoto thought he might refuse. Then he released an airy sigh, as though disposing of a bad smell. ‘It has already done enough damage to my reputation. But it behooves me to show mercy to my inferiors and thus set a better example. I accept your condition.’

‘Thank you, Togami-san,’ said Makoto earnestly.

‘Yes, yes.’ Togami waved off his gratitude, flicking his silken blond locks with an elegant gesture. ‘I’ve had quite enough grovelling in my presence lately. No thanks to you, Fukawa-san.’

A strangled noise emerged from around the corner of the school building, and Togami chuckled, pushing up his glasses with two fingers as he turned around. ‘Commoners are so predictable. Be sure to comply with our agreement.’

Togami glided away serenely without so much as a second glance, leaving Makoto smiling awkwardly and scratching his cheek. Touko padded out from her hiding place with a sullen expression. For her brief outdoor excursion, she had opted to throw on a patchy purple bathrobe and her regular loafers rather than change into proper clothes. One of her braids was coming loose and her hair was tufty and slick under the noonday sun; her eyes were red and her cheeks were blotchy. Yet from the way Makoto was looking at her...

‘Makoto-kun...’ Although he was no taller than her, with all her secrets revealed Touko felt impossibly small and vulnerable. Still, there was no way after all of this—knowing who she was, what was inside of her—he could possibly...

Makoto took her hand once more. ‘Now I have to keep my promise.’

‘Your promise?’

‘Remember what I was asking you earlier,’ said Makoto, ‘before Togami-san interrupted us?’ He glanced away from Touko, laughing a little to dispel the tension.

‘Mm-hm.’ For once, Touko found herself wordless, and could barely stand to reply.

Makoto moved closer. ‘Close your eyes.’

Touko had written enough romance scenes to know where this was going, and she acceded to Makoto’s command easily—though even as her hopes rose her imagination contrived a conspiracy against her that would lead to her imminent humiliation, Byakuya and Makoto working together to spite her, and she braced herself for his laughter, for the sting of rejection or even his hand across her face, to be mocked for her rotten stench, her cheap ill-fitting clothes, her ugly pig face, to know the abjection that she embodied, to hear all the cruel unvarnished truths that she deserved, to feel—

—Makoto’s lips brushing shyly against hers, his fingers grazing her sallow cheeks to wipe away her tears.

‘I like you, Touko-san.’

Quivering, Touko dug her nails into Makoto’s hand. ‘You’re really saying some embarrassing stuff today, huh?’ she whispered, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

‘No one can hear us.’

Touko opened her eyes in a slow, catlike manner, flashing Makoto her characteristic grimacing smile. ‘I can hear you.’

Makoto returned a bright, infectious grin. ‘Yes, you can.’

Touko squirmed bashfully and giggled. ‘What’s with you...with these cheesy lines...? You better take r-responsibility for this—don’t you realise what you’re saying? Not to mention t-to whom you’re saying it...’

‘Of course I do,’ Makoto replied. ‘I can say it again if you like.’

‘N-No, it’s okay,’ said Touko quietly, ‘I haven’t answered your question: I-I think it’d b-be okay, actually, if you took me on a d-d...’ She took a deep breath and looked down at the grass. ‘A date.’

‘I’d love to.’ The nervous edge in Makoto’s eyes dissipated. ‘Looks like everything went as planned.’

Touko’s wariness reared up as the shock of her first kiss tapered off. ‘Planned? Is this about your promise with...?’

Makoto nodded. ‘She wanted me to tell you how I feel. And she promised that she would delete the web novel if I did.’

That was it? Touko looked at Makoto in obvious disbelief.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Maybe this is how she shows you that she cares? I don’t know, but this was what she wanted.’

‘Oh, so that’s the reason you confessed to me,’ grouched Touko. ‘I see how it is. Figures it’d take the threat of murder to make a boy do it.’

‘N-No! Not at all.’ Makoto’s composure dropped as he scrambled to reassure her. ‘I like you, Touko-san! I really do like you. I’ve liked you for months.’

‘No need to overstate it.’ Touko smiled again and used her free hand to envelop Makoto’s in both of hers, running her thumb over his knuckles in a curious, almost forensic manner. ‘I’m only teasing.’ And, to her surprise, she was telling the truth.

* * *

Shou’s novel was removed from the web page by the following morning; undoubtedly there had been plenty of time for archives to be downloaded and distributed among enthusiasts, but Togami honoured his agreement with Makoto and indicated to Touko via message that he would drop the matter. Makoto, however, was informed of his success in a rather more invasive fashion.

He came to unexpectedly, under the faint blue light of an early summer morning, which shone gently through his curtains and might have otherwise eased him comfortably out of slumber; conversely the machine gun knocking that actually awoke him was more than sufficient to disturb the occupants of neighbouring rooms. Glancing with sleep-ridden eyes at his bedside, Makoto registered the time as 5:30 AM, which was altogether too early for any sensible person to visit at dawn on a Sunday.

‘Who’s there...?’ Makoto groaned, rubbing his forehead as the cheerful rat-a-tat sound continued. ‘Hello? Hello?’

‘Guess who?’

Makoto snapped to attention instantly, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. ‘Genocider Shou?’

‘Don’t be so loud, Ma-kun! What will people think?’

She was telling _him_ to be quiet? Makoto rested his hands on his eyelids as he attempted to process the presence of the (retired) serial killer outside his room as well as the realisation that he was technically dating her, which had only dimly occurred to him in yesterday’s excitement.

‘I’ll come let you in,’ he said wearily.

No sooner was the door opened than Shou immediately closed the distance to Makoto, snaking her arms around him so his own were constricted in a hug that was as predatory as it was affectionate.

‘Ma-kun...’ Shou purred, ‘Ma-kun, you really did it. My blushing little strawberry, my vanilla muffin, my prince babyface...ah, I caught you in your jammies too...’ She breathed saucily into Makoto’s face, her tongue wiggling, and he caught the scent of fish again.

‘W-Was this your plan all along?’

‘Whatwhatwhatwhat? My plan?’

‘You don’t seem too torn up about having to leave your “erotic masterpiece” incomplete,’ said Makoto. ‘Did you do all this for Touko-san’s sake?’

Shou looked at him crossly. ‘Touko’s sake? What are you talking about? Are you brain-damaged? I did this because she wouldn’t let me out!’

‘Wouldn’t let you out?’

‘We share emotions! I knew just how mad she’d be if I messed up her precious school life with _Byakuya-sama_ and _M-M-Makoto-kun._ ’ Shou’s changeling imitation of Touko was all the more uncanny for its failure to match the original, despite emanating from the same voice box. ‘So I dropped this little line to lure ‘em in! It was a real joy to write, for sure, but I was sure as slaughter that you guys would take notice.’

‘To—lure _me_ in?’

‘Yes, indeed!’ Shou cackled, sliding a hand up Makoto’s back to ruffle his hair. ‘I hoped I might pull tall, blonde and handsome but I guess I’ll make do with the runt...’

‘Runt?’

Hot, wet flesh connected with Makoto’s cheek as Shou brushed him with her tongue. ‘Just teasing, my little chorizo,’ she whispered. ‘Ma-kun, I haven’t had a single cute boy to play with for so long. I’ve been so lonely, like a sad little poisonous flower wilting in a drought. Not a very pretty flower, but does not even the sorriest blossom deserve the occasional shower?’ She drew her fingers over Makoto’s face dramatically.

‘So you did all this—’

‘I did it for myself,’ said Shou, ‘so I wouldn’t have to hide away like a leper all the time, and so I would have an adorable boy who was completely devoted to me. And to Touko, if she absolutely must involve herself.’

‘Difficult to see how she wouldn’t,’ muttered Makoto.

Giggling slyly, Shou pushed him away from the doorway, and he tottered back into the centre of the room, with her in tow. ‘You seriously did a number on her yesterday,’ she said. ‘I really like you, Ma-kun. Like it’s an I-want-to-eat-you kind of like you.’ Shou panted heavily for a few seconds, regarding Makoto with covetous interest. ‘Say, is it okay if you give me the key to your room?’

‘No.’

‘Aw, c’mon,’ moaned Shou. ‘I’ll be real nice and let you out on the weekends and everything.’

Makoto winced as Shou advanced ever nearer to him, unsure whether her coy, ironic tone meant he could decline to take her threats seriously, or if there was a chance he might wake up someday to discover less than a dorm room door separating him from Shou and her array of shining scissor blades. She and Touko shared feelings; they were distinct but not fully separate personalities. The connection between Shou’s murders and Touko’s many tales of personal betrayal and rejection became quite clear all of a sudden. Realising what that could mean for him, Makoto smiled anxiously at Shou and prayed that he could stay on both of their good sides.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘there’s no need for that. I’ll spend time with you. Promise.’

Shou laughed and pounced at Makoto again. ‘You’re really stupid!’ she cried. ‘Don’t you know who you’re talking to?’ Her expression became serious. ‘Are you really this stupid?’ she asked. ‘Like, do you seriously envision yourself dating her— _us_?’

‘I’ve always said my optimism was the best thing I had going for me.’ Makoto blushed lightly. ‘I’m s-sure I’d like to get closer to you, as well as Touko-san.’

His words appeared to have the desired effect. Shou’s face brightened and her eyes twinkled as she pinched Makoto’s cheeks. ‘You’re so _cute_!’ she exclaimed, laughing. ‘ _You like me, you really like me!_ I don’t even care how stupid you are. Oh, gosh, you better keep your promises.’ She leaned forward, and almost daintily, pushed her tongue between Makoto’s lips—in response to his gasp she murmured, ‘Just a taste, Ma-kun. I’m sure _she_ got a kiss...’

With some trepidation, Makoto relaxed and returned Shou’s embrace, permitting her to enter. Her elongated tongue moved deeper into his mouth, exploring behind his teeth and playfully dueling with his own tongue; shyly, he sucked on hers in response, eliciting a muffled giggle from Shou. As she became more aggressive, however, Makoto was pushed backwards, drawing Shou into a patch of dawn light that shone directly into her eyes. Abruptly, she drew back, her breath hastening as she raised up her head and closed her eyes.

‘Ah...’ she breathed. ‘Aw, shit.’ And then she sneezed into Makoto’s face.

Opening his spit-covered eyelids, Makoto was greeted by a red-faced Touko, evidently shocked to wake up in his arms. ‘T-Touko-san?’ he said. ‘Are you back?’

‘B-Back?’ Touko looked around warily. ‘Wh-What is going on here? What did she do? What did _y-y-you_ do?’

‘I got a visit from Shou,’ explained Makoto in a panicked tone, fully expecting an outburst from Touko. ‘She wanted to talk about yesterday, and then she...’

To his surprise, Touko nodded, her expression softening into understanding. ‘I can imagine the rest.’ Sighing, she rested her head on Makoto’s shoulder. ‘I feel k-kind of good, actually. I never feel like this after she’s been visiting. I just feel scared, and angry—and there’s b-blood everywhere...’

‘It’s okay.’ Makoto squeezed her shoulders gently.

‘Whatever happened,’ continued Touko, ‘I guess it satisfied her.’

‘I just told her it was fine if she wanted to spend some time with me too.’

‘Makoto-kun!’ Touko groaned. ‘You’re such a softie.’ She smiled stupidly and accidentally dribbled on Makoto’s pyjamas. ‘Ah, s-sorry. It’s on your face, too.’

Makoto grinned, rolling his eyes. ‘I think I can deal with it.’

With a blush, Touko hugged Makoto back. ‘I’m just m-marking my territory. Ah, I’m getting horribly corny now too...’

‘You know,’ said Makoto, ‘We were going to meet up later anyway, but since all this has happened, I could just clean up and get ready now, and we’ll spend the whole day together instead.’

‘You are w-way too smooth,’ mumbled Touko. ‘But—okay.’ She disentangled herself from Makoto’s embrace. ‘I’ll go back and wait for you to wash up.’

‘I’ll be quick.’

As she turned to leave, Touko made a furtive observation of Makoto’s living conditions. It was, as anticipated, perfectly, almost freakishly normal: a few volumes of mainstream _shounen_ manga by the bedside, a baseball pennant on the wall and a few other scraps of matching memorabilia including a small plush of a gormless fish mascot—the Naegi family were clearly Chiba Marines people—and a small collection of trendy video games scattered here and there. There was a little mess, but not too much—nor was it fastidiously clean. The room’s inoffensiveness, its averageness, which might have offended Touko under different circumstances, instead proved intimidating to her. She didn’t belong here. A place like this could only reject her eventually; it was repulsed by her on an elemental level, like a magnetic force. Remembering Makoto’s attempts to comfort her, the sensation of resistance, of opposition, that overcame her was only bitterer. To scorn him for his _normality_ would be immature and defensive, but in the absence of those defences she only grew more ashamed of her presence there, like an invasive black cockroach. Most of all, she felt terribly vulnerable, as though by embracing Makoto she had left on him some bloody mark from wounds which would not close and still lay gaping as they remained near one another.

It wouldn’t do. Just as she reached the doorway, Touko halted. Her fingers on the handle, she closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head.

‘Touko-san?’

As Makoto watched her in some confusion, Touko whispered something inaudible.

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ asked Makoto.

Touko’s hand tightened around the metal, and she took a deep breath. ‘I like you too, Makoto-kun.’ Her voice was thin and timid, and she couldn’t stand even to look him in the eye, but he had heard her. Please don’t hurt me, she prayed, please don’t hurt me, please...

Makoto’s arms encircled her waist and Touko’s anxious heartbeat slowed as his warmth joined with her. ‘Thank you for saying it.’

‘It w-wasn’t fair,’ she stammered. ‘You got to s-say it and look so c-cool, and I never did.’

‘It means a lot to me,’ Makoto said. ‘I won’t betray that trust.’

‘You better not.’ With her free hand, Touko grasped Makoto’s at her waist and squeezed. ‘C-Come and find me soon.’

‘I will.’

As she stepped into the hall, Touko’s nerves were still alight, which was not helped when Kirigiri’s wry voice caught her off-guard.

‘Interesting.’

Touko produced a choked hiccoughing cry and whirled two-hundred-seventy degrees before she found herself facing Kirigiri, who was leaning casually against the wall in plain black pyjamas. ‘Wh-What’s interesting, exactly?’ cried Touko. ‘Eavesdropper! Pervert! Demon!’

‘ _She_ was making a ruckus,’ said Kirigiri, ‘and I couldn’t help myself. Curiosity is in my blood, after all.’

‘Why d-don’t you mind your own business...’

‘Congratulations,’ Kirigiri said, in the same ironical tone. ‘A much better idea than Togami-san.’

‘What are you implying about Byakuya-sama?’

‘Nothing about him,’ replied Kirigiri, ‘but plenty about you.’

‘Me?’

‘It’s been my observation,’ said Kirigiri, ‘that people who seek to defend themselves from hurt often place themselves in situations where they are guaranteed disappointment—and therefore protection from the possibility of genuine vulnerability. For example, to fall in love with someone clearly unavailable or above their station, to harbour romantic delusions with no _real_ hope of seeing them fulfilled—’

‘That’s not true at all!’ insisted Touko. ‘Besides, my d-delusions did come to s-something, because—because—Makoto-kun s-saved me...saved me, like a p-prince coming to my rescue...’ Her voice withered into a bashful murmur, her ears burning with embarrassment as she realised what she’d said. ‘It’s none of your business anyway! I sh-shouldn’t be wasting time with you...’ Hunching over, she scurried away to her room, Kirigiri’s gaze following her with cool amusement.

‘Interesting,’ said Kirigiri again. ‘Very interesting.’ As she rubbed her chin with a slim gloved finger, her lips curled into a dry, yet distantly compassionate smile.

Touko was red in the face as she slammed the door behind her, but shadowed by her posture was a small, awkward smile. ‘I’m so embarrassing, Kameko.’ The insect acknowledged her by pausing briefly to raise her head from the strawberry she was slowly consuming. ‘I said Makoto-kun s-s-s—oh, it’s too embarrassing to repeat it even to you. Forget I said anything.’ Kameko continued to eat her strawberry in a contemplative manner.

‘Just how am I going to write like this...?’ Touko sighed, pacing over to the window. ‘Nothing is supposed to be this easy.’

She knew it was only a matter of time—minutes, probably—before the intrusive anxieties returned, the inner critic determined to rewrite any optimistic narrative she indulged about herself, however briefly. Gazing absently at the grassy schoolyard, already bright with dawn, and the fuchsia sky terraced with cirrus clouds, Touko wanted to curse the perpetual raincloud hanging over her; but its encroachment was always near at hand, and in Makoto’s absence, even the greenest and brightest day would not slow or prevent its return. It wasn’t supposed to be so easy, not for her. No matter how deeply she escaped into her imagination, the sadness would still come.

But she trusted that, in good time, he would come, too.


End file.
